Kindred Spirits
by ice princess deluxe
Summary: Fifty short vignettes on how a friendship can evolve into something more over the span of several years.


Title: Kindred Spirits  
>Rating: PG-13 for violence, adult situations<br>Pairing: Vivian Hawke/Fenris, one-sided Anders/Hawke  
>Spoilers: Pretty much the entire game, especially Fenris's friendshipromance options.  
>Summary: Fifty short vignettes on how a friendship can evolve into something more over the span of several years.<br>Note: This was supposed to be an entry for the LJ community 1sentence, but each of the prompts took on a life of their own.

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><p><strong>#05 – Wrong<strong>

"That would be a perfectly good waste of a handsome elf," Bethany teased once they were back home. "You should have seen the look on your face!"

Vivian groaned and flung an arm over her eyes. "Maker, is there a hole that I can crawl into? We just met and I practically threw myself at him."

"You do tend to say the first thing that comes to mind without any sort of filter," Bethany agreed, picking up one of Vivian's shirts that needed patching. She began to hum as she sifted through her meager sewing kit, thoroughly enjoying her older sister's discomfort. She was normally so composed, not caring if anyone was offended by what she had to say. To see her like this was entertaining. "But look on the bright side! I saw the way he looked at you after; something tells me that he didn't think you said the wrong thing."

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><p><strong>#13 – Change<br>**  
>The first time that he laughed, truly laughed, Hawke was amazed at the way his entire expression changed. He looked younger; his cares (or chip on his shoulder, as some would say,) vanishing for a few moments. She decided then and there that it would be her job to put that look on his face more often.<p>

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><p><strong>#03 – Young<br>**  
>When Bethany had told him just how old her sister was, Fenris was speechless. He'd expected her to be older; Hawke was the sort of woman that took charge, someone people looked to for leadership and listened to when she spoke. She tended to carry more than her share of cares across her shoulders without once complaining about the weight.<p>

He shook his head. Someone as young as Hawke should not have had to grow up as fast as she had. He made up his mind right then that he would do his best to help her shoulder any future burdens that were sure to be thrown at them.

* * *

><p><strong>#11 – Blur<strong>

She was a blur on the battlefield; there one moment and gone the next, her blades slicing through their enemies like a hot knife through butter. Fenris couldn't help but admire the way that she moved, the swift, economical attacks well suited for her lithe, graceful frame and the twirling strike she used to finish off her last opponent showcasing the curve of her breasts and the arc of her back.

He blinked. He'd never thought of Hawke's body in such a manner before, but now that he noticed, he couldn't _stop_ noticing, especially the sway of her hips as she walked in front of them, her eyes intent on looking for dropped trinkets or money.

Not one to deny himself simple pleasures, he found himself deliberately hanging back to fully admire the view.

* * *

><p><strong>#12 – Wait<strong>

"Watch your step." Fenris stopped in his tracks as Hawke knelt to disarm a trap he hadn't seen, not at the thought that he could have had his leg crushed by steel teeth, but by the fact that she had made him wait by putting her hand on his shoulder. He normally would have minded someone touching him without his permission, but for some reason, he could still feel the warm imprint of her hand through his clothes and wished that she would do it again.

* * *

><p><strong>#01 – Motion<strong>

It was strange; every time that she and Carver had tried to fight together, they had nearly killed themselves. Her brother would complain that she was always in the way of his sword and she would fight back saying that Carver was never where he needed to be, his body right smack in her line of sight. It was a wonder that they hadn't been killed in Ostagar.

Fighting with Fenris, on the other hand, was like day and night. It seemed that he was always at her back, ready to defend her from any flanking attacks while she concentrated on her target and she knew exactly when to step in and help when it seemed as if he was about to wade into a fray that was more than he could handle. They worked together in such a fluid motion that she often wondered if he could read her thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>#25 – Shadow<strong>

"Okay, so sneaking up on you in Lowtown at nightfall wasn't one of my brighter decisions. Could we continue this conversation at another time, you know, like when your hand isn't trying to crush my windpipe?"

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><p><strong>#28 – Fortune<strong>

"He should have a small fortune sitting in front of him by now," Isabela said, leaning back in her chair. She flicked her eyes towards her cards again: she had a high hand, probably enough to win the round, but she wasn't about to let the two people in front of her know that. "I thought you said you were going to help him win, Hawke."

Vivian scowled. They _would_ have been winning, but every time she tried to form an attack, Fenris leaned towards her to ask if the hand he had been dealt was a good one. Her strategies tended to scatter to the four winds at the sound of his voice combined with the slightest hint of his breath stirring her hair close to her ear.

"The night is still young," she replied instead, reaching out to deal them another two cards.

* * *

><p><strong>#02 – Cool<strong>

She was tying a bandage over a gash when she noticed that the lyrium markings winding their way around his arm were slightly cooler to the touch than the rest of his skin. She looked up from her job when she felt his eyes on her, but blushed and quickly looked away when she saw how his eyes had softened as he watched her work, the tiniest hint of a crooked smile gracing his mouth.

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><p><strong>#49 – Hunger<strong>

"I don't want him coming along."

Hawke rolled her eyes and blew her bangs out of her face. "I wish that you could get along for a single outing without me having to step in between the both of you." She reached up on her tiptoes and pulled down a canister of dried elfroot from Anders's private stash. Dried wasn't as good as fresh, but it still made decent poultices for his patients. Anders was in the process of teaching her how to make medicines from scratch, but honestly, she preferred to pay Lady Elegant for the finished product instead of taking the time to mix her own. "What is it about him that you can't stand?"

"Well, for one there's the whole _all mages are evil_ stance he has. Doesn't it bother you that he treats your sister badly?"

"He treats Bethany the same way that he treats me. He's been nothing but polite around her."

Anders ground several ingredients in his mortar and pestle harder than necessary. "There's a difference between being polite and hiding barbs behind the pretense of politeness."

"He's had every reason to distrust mages. Look at his past; the fact that he hasn't reported either of you to the Templars says that he's a better person than you think." Actually, he and Bethany got along quite well; her sister was simply too _nice_ for anyone to dislike and she was making it her own personal crusade to prove that not all mages were like the ones in Tevinter. So far, it seemed as if it was working.

"He's letting one experience color his entire outlook."

Hawke sighed. She had half a mind to note that Anders was calling the kettle black himself with his view of Templars, but they'd been over and over this to the point where she knew that it was best to agree to disagree. "Look, Aveline is incredibly busy doing Guardswoman-type things and can't come along. Fenris can hold his own in a fight and then some, so he's locked in. Varric is going because I think he needs to get out of the Hanged Man every once and a while or else he's going to start growing roots. I can ask Bethany to come with, but honestly, you're the better healer."

"What about Merrill? Why haven't you included her?"

"Because Fenris dislikes her even more than he dislikes you. Even if she is a blood mage, I can't help but feel for her and I don't want to try to mediate between them. And before you ask, I haven't mentioned Isabela because I know that she's still hung over from last night's card game. I'd rather not spend the trip to this Bone Pit worrying about her throwing up all over my boots or hearing her complain about being dragged out in the open." Besides, she owed Isabela; the pirate had covered for Hawke when she had slipped the best cards out of the bottom of the deck while shuffling and the usually eagle-eyed Varric hadn't noticed. And she was fond of Isabela. Besides Varric and Bethany, she was the only one in Kirkwall that actually _got_ Hawke's dry, sarcastic sense of humor. "Come on; don't make us go out with just three people. I _need_ you with me, Anders."

Anders sighed. He didn't know how to explain, but his dislike for Fenris went deeper than merely not caring for the dismissive, judgmental way the elf treated him. The lyrium that marked his skin tended to bring Justice closer to the surface than Anders would like. Justice was drawn to the elf, hungry for the siren call of magic that flowed across his body - _how he sings!_ - in such a way that made Anders afraid. All it would take was one ill-timed barb and he'd lose control of Vengeance, except there wouldn't be any Templars to harm. He was frightened beyond belief that he'd wind up hurting Hawke without meaning to.

Here was a woman who believed in him even when he had doubts about himself. To cause her grief would be inexcusable.

"Anders?"

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "All right, you've twisted my arm. What time do we leave?" He stiffened when Hawke threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, but then he relaxed into her embrace, savoring the feel of her in his arms and the faint scent of lemons that always seemed to cling to her.

"I want to get this deal with Hubert over with as soon as possible. He's an oily sort of character; the faster we investigate his mine the better."

"All right then." He put away his medicines and picked up his staff. "I'm with you." The little half-smile she gave him was enough to set his heart flipping, but he shoved his feelings aside. He could never give her the sort of future she deserved and he'd only ultimately wind up breaking her heart.

Yet following her on her many jobs, being there at her side when she needed him to be, that would just have to be enough for him.

* * *

><p><strong>#30 – Ghost<strong>

She hadn't been the same since they came back from the Deep Roads. The Hawke that he had been getting to know was bright and lively. After her sister's death – and Fenris truly did mourn Bethany's passing, she had stubbornly managed to firmly seat herself as something of a friend to him – Hawke was a shadow of her former self, mechanically moving from one day to the next despite anything their other companions tried to do. It was as if she had died deep underground along with her sister.

Hawke was like a ghost among them, and Fenris was desperate to find a way to get her to start living again.

* * *

><p><strong>#44 – Wall<strong>

Fenris's hands clenched into fists as he watched Hawke dive behind the safety of a pillar, blood trickling down the side of her face from a cut she had received when the Arishok had flung her against a wall. She fumbled for a healing potion at her belt, but didn't have a chance to drink it. With a bellow, the Arishok charged at her, causing Hawke to go back on the defensive.

Fenris ground his teeth. _He_ had done this, had set up this duel between them. It was his fault that she bled and he was helpless to do anything but watch from the sidelines as she was thrown about like a rag doll.

* * *

><p><strong>#06 – Gentle<strong>

"I don't see why you won't let Anders or Merrill look at your arm," Hawke said, pouring water in a basin. It had taken a while, but she had finally coaxed Fenris out of most of his armor so she could tend to the gash on his bicep.

"I'll not have an abomination or a blood mage see this," he said, sitting on a stool in Hawke's kitchen. "There's no telling what they would do to it."

She rolled her eyes. It was an old argument, one she knew he would never bend from. "Anders would have healed this faster than I could," she said, already knowing that Fenris was rolling his eyes without having to look up. "And Merrill would have been handy if this had been poisoned. You can never be too careful with spider fangs."

"But it wasn't poisoned and I am here. I would rather have you deal with this."

She dabbed at the wound with a clean cloth, wincing when Fenris's mouth turned downward ever so slightly, his only hint that he was in pain. "I'm just glad that you don't need stitches. Bethany…" she stopped and had to look away; even after two years, the pain and guilt of losing her sister in the Deep Roads was still sharp. "Bethany's needlework was always better than mine. I wouldn't trust myself to sew you together."

He looked at her and hated seeing the sad, faraway expression on her face. "I would trust you," he said quietly, reaching out and putting a hand over hers.

She gave him a tiny smile, the haunted look fading from her eyes. She didn't say anything else, but he couldn't help but notice the gentle way she applied healing paste to his injury and wound linen bandages around his arm.

* * *

><p><strong>#23 – Child<strong>

She fought the urge to giggle like a little girl and go _you think I'm pretty?_ when she heard him call her beautiful for the first time. Instead, she arched her eyebrow and responded to his question with one of her own.

"You don't see anyone else here, do you?"

* * *

><p><strong>#27 – Hide<strong>

Vivian shouldn't have been surprised at her mother's _so, when can we expect your gentleman friend for dinner?_ She had tried to play naïve, but Leandra had seen straight through it.

"I see the way that you and that elf look at the other; don't try and hide it." Her voice had a teasing, playful tone to it that Vivian hadn't heard in a very long time. "Now, what does he care to eat? Does he like cookies? I can bake a batch or two."

Vivian watched her mother peer into their pantry, thinking that…well, _whatever_ it was she and Fenris had going on was worth it if it transformed her mother into the woman she had been long before the Blight.

* * *

><p><strong>#10 – Learn<strong>

She didn't know what was wrong; she was teaching Fenris how to read the exact same way her mother had taught her and her siblings, but it seemed as if Fenris wasn't improving very much.

"I guess I'm just not that good of a teacher," she sighed, leaning her elbow on the table of his mansion and propping her chin on her hand.

Fenris resisted the urge to sit closer to her. She'd been teaching him by slowly sounding out certain words and letters. He'd been transfixed at the shape of her mouth and the way that her tongue would press against her teeth that he had lost his tentative hold on his concentration. "No, no. You're doing fine," he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from her lips. "You can't help it that you have a student that's a slow learner."

* * *

><p><strong>#40 – History<strong>

"Templars hold an important role."

"Templars hold the role of oppressors. This needs to change."

"If it changed, we'd have another Imperium on our hands. Mages need to be leashed."

"You would think that you'd say otherwise; the Circle is merely a glorified slave pen!"

Hawke groaned and buried her head in her arms. The debate might have varied over the years, but the core meaning and the stance Fenris and Anders took had remained the same. She could see both sides of the discussion, but she felt that for any lasting peace to be had, both the Circle and the Templars had to meet somewhere in the middle for a compromise. It wasn't a popular opinion, she the tended to keep her mouth shut whenever the topic came up. "So help me," she grumbled, wishing desperately that the tavern musicians would play louder to drown out the worst of the argument, "if the two of you don't _shut up_ and behave civilly for one evening, I'm going to box both of your ears."

Fenris stared at her, a surprised expression on his face. In all the time that he had known her, Hawke had never spoken to him in that tone of voice. Sure, she could be sarcastic and cynical when she wanted to, but for the most part she had an easygoing, diplomatic personality. It took a while for him to close his mouth with an audible click, covering his shock by taking a hearty swig of ale.

Anders was quicker to recover. "Yes, Mother," he muttered, sitting closer to Hawke and draping his arm over the back of her chair. He smirked over Hawke's head as he did so, knowing that Fenris disliked the comfortable, familiar way that mage and rogue acted towards the other. Hawke was naturally touchy-feely and free with her affections, so she didn't take offence to his close proximity. While her and Fenris's flirting had begun to carry more weight and meaning, he knew that he had no claim on her.

That damned mage knew it as well. Fenris inwardly raged when Anders bent his head and pressed a kiss to the crown of Hawke's hair as he suggested playing a round of Diamondback, Anders's eyes never leaving his.

* * *

><p><strong>#43 – God<strong>

He might have told Sebastian that he had no faith in the Maker, but if the Chantry brother would have asked him who he did have faith in, he would have easily answered with Hawke's name.

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><p><strong>#04 – Last<strong>

They were the last people to leave the Hanged Man that night, Isabela trying her best to prop up a giggling Hawke. They both slid down the tavern's outside wall and landed on the pavement in a laughing pile.

"You two are a mess," Fenris dryly noted, his eyebrow arched.

Hawke blearily looked up at him, smothering another giggle with the back of her hand. "And you're laughing at us. Quit it, you."

"He's not laughing," Isabela argued, pulling out a hip flask and taking a swig. "He's brooding. _Again_."

"No, no. Definitely laughing. You have to look hard, but I bet he's having a big old belly laugh on the inside."

Fenris rolled his eyes and leaned down to grab Hawke's hands in his own. One quick pull and she was unsteadily on her feet. "Hello," she slurred, planting a messy kiss on his cheek.

He tilted his head slightly away from the cloyingly sweet scent of honey that was thick on her breath. She'd decided to get silly drunk on mead tonight, which would more than likely give her a horrendous headache in the morning. He dismissed the way that she threw her arms around his neck to keep her feet, resolutely trying - and failing - to ignore the soft press of her body against his. "I'll see Hawke home," he told Isabela instead. "I doubt you're in any shape to make it to Hightown and back without ending up passed out in some gutter."

"Aww, I didn't know you cared!" Isabela blew them both a kiss and staggered back inside.

"Come on, Hawke, let's get you home. One foot in front of the other now."

Hawke sighed contentedly and sagged even more against him. "You really do have pretty eyes," she mused, twirling her fingers through his hair.

"If you want to pluck them out and wear them as a necklace, you're going to have to go through Isabela first. I believe she said she had first dibs."

"Oh no, no, no. I wouldn't _ever_ want to do that. They're nice where they are." Her gaze flicked down from his eyes to his mouth, then back again. Fenris grit his teeth and murmured a curse in Tevinter as he felt his willpower crumble at the sight of her, her lips soft and inviting. It would only take him dipping his head and moving a few inches for him to kiss her like he had wanted to do ever since the second time she had visited him three years ago…

But then Hawke put a stop to that train of thought by going green and flinging a hand over her mouth. Luckily he was quick enough to turn her so she could empty the contents of her stomach into a side alley. He sighed and pulled her hair back away from her face, glad that something had happened before he had done something stupid that could have harmed their friendship.

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><p><strong>#17 – Vision<strong>

He heard her complaining about hating to get dressed up for parties and how she would rather be in her regular clothes having drinks in the Hanged Man with people she knew were her friends instead of dealing with stuffy nobles all night long, but any teasing reply he would have said scattered at the sight of the vision of beauty standing at the top of the staircase, even if said vision wore a scowl and was currently griping about the way that the elaborate pins in her hairstyle were giving her a headache.

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><p><strong>#19 – Soul<strong>

He might have been more than a little tipsy when he shared part of his past with Hawke, but even sober, he felt as if he could bare his soul to her without fear of her using the information against him.

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><p><strong>#47 – Harm<strong>

"I failed you. I should have been stronger, I should have avoided temptation." He felt horrible at the thought that he had been weak enough to succumb to the demon in the Fade, horrified that he had raised his sword against Hawke. Even though it had been their dream selves fighting, he had felt the slide of her blades against his ribs, had welcomed the pain as a fitting punishment for his betrayal.

She looked at him, her heart aching at how miserable he seemed. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and tell him that she understood. "No harm done," she said instead. "I give my all friends one free pass on demonic possession before I start to hold it against them."

It seemed to do the job. He let out a relieved sounding laugh, his stance relaxing. "Good to know."

* * *

><p><strong>#31 – Book<strong>

"This is the filthiest piece of trash I've ever read," Fenris snarled, throwing the loosely bound manuscript down in front of Varric. "I certainly hope that you're not planning on getting it published."

Varric looked vaguely offended. "It's already been sent off and I've gotten an advance check. My editor loved it."

"It's not another _Hard in Hightown_ serial, is it?" Isabela asked, perching on the arm of Varric's chair.

"Nope. I took a page out of your book and went into the romance genre."

"Oooh, let me see." The pirate picked up the book and flipped to a random page. "_Vivianne gasped, her legs hitching higher on her lover's back, her head thrown back in abandon as he…_" She stopped reading and glanced at Varric, her eyebrows raised to her hairline. "I thought that I've done everything, but I had no idea _that_ was even possible."

"Vivianne is incredibly flexible."

"Ah. Good for her. _She panted his name, her nails biting into the flesh of his shoulders as her breasts heaved…_ "

Fenris glowered. "You have to retract this garbage."

"But my focus group loved it."

Isabela snorted. "Your focus group consists of Norah and the other barmaids."

"And they adored it."

Fenris threw his hands in the air. "You are hopeless. The least you can do is change the heroine's name before it's plastered all over Kirkwall." He spun on his heel and stalked out of the tavern.

Isabela reached out and played with Varric's hair. "You did that on purpose so he'd think of Hawke, didn't you?"

Varric lightly batted her hand away. "Stop that. You know how jealous Bianca gets when you flirt with me. And I _might_ have made sure to use something that was close to Hawke's name accidentally on purpose. The two of them have been dancing around the other for years. If their friends never gave them a friendly kick in the pants, they'll wind up circling around forever."

She laughed. "Oh, this is going to be priceless. Varric, you're a genius."

He smirked. "And that, madam, is why I am here."

* * *

><p><strong>#22 – Mad<strong>

"He isn't a slave!" she shouted, enraged at the thought that these people had once treated her friend like an object meant to be used and discarded instead of an actual person; a person whose wit was just as dry as hers, if not more so, someone who was a poor card player but a decent dancer, who used brooding as a mask to hide his true feelings, who endearingly stumbled over words in a beginning reading primer and yet never let his mistakes stop him from completing his goal, no matter how frustrated he got or how many times he threw the book against the wall, a man who she had bled with, laughed with, one she was trying to form a relationship with.

Out of everyone she had ever fought, killing the people hunting for Fenris had been the only deaths she had truly been _happy_ to deal with.

* * *

><p><strong>#16 – Need<strong>

She couldn't accurately describe what happened between the time that she had reached out to stop him from leaving and the moment that her back had hit the stone wall behind her, but the guttural groan and fierce way that his lips had moved over hers had been filled with so much need that she had been helpless to do anything but follow his lead.

* * *

><p><strong>#21 – Fool<strong>

He felt like a fool; not for sleeping with Vivian, but for being cowardly enough to walk away from the one person who was willing to help him sort through his jumbled emotions.

* * *

><p><strong>#39 – Torn<strong>

The day after was certainly awkward. Hawke was about to chicken out and avoid him like the plague, but she thought better of it at the last minute. It would be better to show Fenris that she could be just as cool and aloof as he could, that she could treat what had happened between them as something casual, that…

Her eyes were instantly drawn towards the torn scrap of fabric he had wrapped around his wrist. She had wondered just what had happened to that part of her skirt. He met her gaze. Perhaps he had been just as affected as she was which made her feel hopeful that something could be salvaged.

* * *

><p><strong>#07 – One<strong>

"What's up with you and the elf?"

Vivian looked up from her tankard of ale and glanced quizzically at Varric. "I don't know what you mean."

He tisked. "Don't give me that. I've spun enough stories to know how to recognize that look."

She arched her eyebrow. "And what look would that be, O Messere Storyteller?"

"The look that says that something happened between you recently, but whatever happened is over and you don't know where you went wrong."

"That's an awful lot for one single look to say."

"What can I say? I'm a master at reading people." He leaned his elbows on the table and nudged her with a shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?"

She rolled her mug in her palms. "I don't know where to start."

Varric frowned. In the years that he had known her, Hawke had become a close companion. "He broke your heart, didn't he? Bianca and I don't take too kindly to people that mess with our friends."

Vivian shook her head. "No, it wasn't like that. It's…"

"It's…?" he prompted.

"It's complicated." She wanted to say more, but she honestly didn't know where to begin sorting out her feelings. Besides, she didn't want to betray Fenris's trust by sharing something that she was certain he would rather keep private.

Varric looked at her a while before finally nodding. "Here, I'll grab the next round." He gestured for the barmaid to bring them both more ale. "And Hawke?"

"Yeah?"

"If it makes you feel any better, the best stories always have something complicated happen in them."

* * *

><p><strong>#32 – Eye<strong>

"He has _gorgeous_ eyes," Isabela sighed, rolling onto her stomach on Hawke's bed.

"Who?" Vivian had invited her friends over and somehow they had ended in her bedroom trading clothes and talking about the various men in their group. "I thought that you were more interested in Varric's chest hair than looking him in the eye."

Isabela sighed again. "Why did you have to mention that man's _glorious_ chest hair? _That_ should be the eighth wonder of Thedas."

Merrill looked up from the intricate braid-work she was in the process of making out of Hawke's hair. "What are the other seven?"

"I have no idea, but I'm certain that at least one or more of them involve Varric in some way."

"You have an unhealthy obsession with your writing partner," Aveline commented, sticking her foot out to admire the beading on her borrowed slipper. She and Hawke were similar in shoe size and while she would never admit it out loud, she did admire the fancy Orlesian slippers Hawke had a tendency to order.

"So says the Captain having a fling with one of her Guardsmen," Isabela threw back, ignoring the indignant look Aveline threw her way. "But I wasn't talking about Varric. I was talking about Fenris."

"Oh, he does have nice eyes," Merrill agreed. "It's a shame he looks so angry most of the time. I'm sure he'd be a perfectly pleasant person to be around if he smiled once and a while. Then again, his face might crack if he did, which would just make him even grumpier and then…"

"Merrill, rambling," Hawke said, hoping that someone would change the subject. It had only been two weeks since the incident in her bedroom - she refused to call it a one night stand because she felt that there was so much more to it than that – but it seemed as if everyone around them could sense a shift in their relationship, even when they hadn't said a single word to anyone.

"You have to admit, he has seemed crankier than normal. It's gone past the usual adorable brooding that he normally does," Isabela said, sitting up. She had taken off her boots sometime during the evening, preferring to parade around in a pair of red and white striped socks no one had ever seen before. "Nothing a good swivving can't take care of, am I right, Hawke?"

"Vulgar as ever," Aveline interrupted.

Isabela stuck out her tongue. "Prude."

"Tart."

"Milady Man Hands. Tell me, does Donnic keep his eyes shut when the two of you go at it?"

"No, he knows exactly who he's sleeping with, unlike the Doorknob of Kirkwall, whom everyone has had a turn at."

Isabela gave a mock sniffle. "Oooh, that one hurt. Did it take you all night to think that out, Big Girl?" Eventually the friendly rivalry died down and the topic of conversation was shifted. Hawke caught Aveline's eye and silently thanked her, the guardswoman quietly nodding her head in acknowledgement.

* * *

><p><strong>#15 – Hold<strong>

There weren't any words that could effectively convey what was buzzing around in his head: his sympathy for her loss, outrage that magic had torn a loved one from her arms, his helplessness that he couldn't do anything to stem the flood of tears from the woman who embodied strength more than anyone he knew.

In the end, he comforted her the only way he knew how. He simply wrapped his arms around her and held on as she sobbed against his shoulder, her hair soft and cool against his cheek.

* * *

><p><strong>#14 – Command<strong>

"Heal her," he growled, propping up Hawke's head with his arm, his other hand carefully tilting a health draught against her lips. They hadn't taken the mage with them on their latest outing and his legs burned from the run from Lowtown to the Undercity in the dark to reach the clinic in time. Thoughts raced around in his head: _should have seen the ambush, should have targeted the assassin first, should have been faster, should have protected her better._ He almost didn't hear Anders stand across the cot from him, even though he noted that the worst of her injuries were closing in on themselves.

"I thought you didn't trust an abomination like me," Anders said snidely, throwing Fenris's words back in his face.

"I don't care; just do your job" he hissed, his thumb gently wiping blood away from Hawke's face. "Come back to us, Vivian."

He was so engrossed in watching for any change in Hawke's face that Fenris completely missed the angry glare Anders gave him or the pointed looks exchanged between Aveline and Varric at his use of Hawke's first name.

* * *

><p><strong>#20 – Picture<strong>

Hawke stared at her mother's portrait and gently traced her features with a finger. _A year since she's been gone,_ she thought. _Four since Bethany. And five since Carver. And…_ She brushed a tear away from her cheek and stared out of her window. She couldn't see it, but she knew that Fenris's home was off in the distance, so close and yet so far. She put her hand against the windowpane and closed her eyes, loneliness making her chest ache, wondering how long it would take until she began to tally the years since Fenris walked away from her.

* * *

><p><strong>#37 – Time<strong>

He thought that time would erase the details of that one night, but even after three years, he could still vividly recall the smooth texture of her skin underneath his hands.

* * *

><p><strong>#08 – Thousand<strong>

Over the years he had lost count of the thousands and thousands of times he wished that he had turned around and walked back to Hawke's side, begging her forgiveness.

* * *

><p><strong>#42 – Bother<strong>

Her family had never truly had a lot, but they had made certain to celebrate birthdays. _Bethany and Carver would have been twenty-three this year. Papa would have played music and Mama would have baked them a cake._

"I'm imposing. I should go."

She turned to Fenris as he stood in the main entranceway, grateful that he had come by. "No, you aren't bothering me," she said, wondering just how he had known that she hadn't wanted to be alone. "Please, stay a while."

* * *

><p><strong>#46 – Drive<strong>

The faster that they found Delilah Howe's brother, the faster they could leave the Deep Roads. The longer they were underground, the higher the odds that one of them could become infected with the Blight. Aveline and Varric were dear friends of hers and Fenris…she didn't know what she would do if she was forced to do to him what she had done to Bethany. She didn't know how she could live without him.

That thought alone was enough for her to ignore the aching fatigue in her arms and legs, to drive her through the pile of hurlocks in front of her.

* * *

><p><strong>#34 – Sing<strong>

He was used to hearing Orana play the lute in the evenings, but he froze in his tracks at the sound of Hawke's voice accompanying- the quiet, sad song she sang haunting in its bittersweet beauty.

* * *

><p><strong>#38 – Wash<strong>

He sat in his metal bathtub in water he had heated to just this side of boiling, scrubbing and scrubbing his skin to try to wash away the feeling of magically being held against his will. He rested his forehead against his knees; he might have been unable to move, but he had heard everything, including Hawke's angry _I will kill you for what you've done to him._

The fact that he had someone at his back that would leap to his aid with such a ferocity made his breath catch. Thinking back to the quiet, relieved look she had given him after and the way she had flung herself into his arms as she whispered her thanks to the Maker that he was unharmed made Fenris feel clean for the first time since coming back from the Wounded Coast.

* * *

><p><strong>#36 – Stop<strong>

"Trust me, killing your sister is something I wouldn't wish on anyone; please, Fenris, let her go."

* * *

><p><strong>#45 – Naked<strong>

The gentle way that he cupped the side of her face with his hand and stared at her with naked affection when she told him that he wasn't alone, that he had her, was enough to make her heart lodge in her throat and her knees weaken.

* * *

><p><strong>#24 – Now<strong>

"We could…" Vivian gasped as Fenris dragged his hand under her thigh to hook her leg over his hip. "There's a perfectly good bed five feet away…" She sifted her fingers in his hair and vaguely wondered how he had managed to get them both out of their armor _and_ pin her to the wall near his fireplace without her realizing it.

"No, now." He tempered his rasped declaration with a tender kiss, his bare hands cupping both sides of her face. "I've wasted enough of our time; I'll not waste a second more."

* * *

><p><strong>#29 – Safe<strong>

She curled against his side, smiling sleepily when she felt his lips brush her forehead. A piece of plaster fell to the floor somewhere across the room and she heard the mansion creak on its foundation, but even with the crumbling ceiling overhead providing an unintentional skylight for the moon to shine through, she knew that the circle of Fenris's arms was the safest place in all of Kirkwall.

* * *

><p><strong>#41 – Power<strong>

He had learned long ago that words were incredibly important. Magisters would duel in the streets, their shouted incantations drawing energy from their slaves on a regular basis. A single spoken command meant life or death, as did the manner in which a slave spoke to anyone higher in station. One false word in a tone of voice that another magister didn't care for could mean the difference between starving for the night and a flogging.

Even though he was aware of the impact certain words had, it was only when he told Vivian _I am yours_ and she responded with _I love you, too_ that he truly realized just how much power a simple phrase held.

* * *

><p><strong>#35 – Sudden<strong>

The band of Invisible Sisters seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere. Fenris barely had enough time to reach for his sword and block a knife attack meant for Hawke.

Vivian growled beside him. "Really, ladies," she drawled, stabbing one in the throat. "Way to ruin a perfectly good evening stroll."

* * *

><p><strong>#33 – Never<strong>

"So, you're into elves," Gamlen murmured, eyeing the way that his niece's tattooed companion bristled at her side. _Took them long enough,_ he thought to himself. He might not show it, but he had worried about Vivian. He knew that he wouldn't win any awards for being the best relative a girl could have, but all they had now was each other. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy. "Never saw that coming."

He watched as Vivian stared at him, a sarcastic retort dying on her tongue as the hidden meaning behind his words sank in. He was embarrassed beyond words at the sight of her eyes misting up and at the way that she blindly sought out the elf's hand, her fingers holding on tightly. "Guess it takes all kinds, huh?"

* * *

><p><strong>#09 – King<strong>

"King of swords, an unlucky card for your hand," Fenris said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid that I win this round."

Hawke glared at the cards splayed out between the two of them. "Either you're getting better at Wicked Grace," she groused as she pulled her top over her head. She stretched, enjoying the way that Fenris's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes never straying from her newly exposed skin; if she was going to lose this game, she was going to _enjoy_ losing. "Or you've been holding out against Varric and Isabela all this time."

He leaned close to her and chuckled, the low, gravelly sound raising gooseflesh over her arms and sending her heart racing. "The three of us only play for money, Hawke," he said, his fingers trailing over the lace edging of her breast band. "The stakes are incredibly higher here: when one has a beautiful woman half-naked in front of them, one plays to _win_."

* * *

><p><strong>#26 – Goodbye<strong>

"Sneaking out without saying goodbye?" He didn't even have to crack open an eyelid to know that Vivian was dressed and ready to leave.

"It's early. I didn't want to wake you." Fabric shifted and the bed dipped as she sat on the edge of the mattress. "You ought to get some rest; we've got a lot of work ahead of us later on today."

He opened his eyes. Reaching out, he laced his fingers with hers. "You should rest too." He gently tugged on her arm. "Stay, if only a little longer."

She worried her bottom lip in her teeth. This wasn't the first time that they had spent the night together, but it was the first that he had asked her to stay with him. She let go of his hand only long enough to pull her boots off and scramble underneath the rumpled sheets. The fire had died down hours ago and his bedroom was cold in the early morning hours. "With a tempting offer like that," she said playfully, her lips skating across his jaw, "how can a girl resist?"

* * *

><p><strong>#18 – Attention<strong>

"You flirted with that assassin on purpose," he kissed her hard. "To to get my attention and make me jealous, didn't you?"

She smirked and kissed him back. "A little bit." Her smirk disappeared and she gasped, her fingers scrabbling across the sheets and her legs tightening around him as he thrust against her. "Did it work?"

He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his lips as he trailed a line of kisses down her throat. "A little bit."

* * *

><p><strong>#48 – Precious<strong>

He found her downstairs sitting in front of the fireplace in her library, a book in her lap. Settling down on the ground, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting against her shoulder. Vivian relaxed against him, picked up her book, and began to quietly read aloud. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his lips following the trail of his fingers. Recently, moments like these had become few and far between. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sound of her voice as she read the tale of Ser William and the Dragon, savoring the precious time they had together.

* * *

><p><strong>#50 – Believe<strong>

_Nothing is going to keep me from you._ The fierce way that he had said those words and the swooping, all-consuming kiss he had given her to seal his vow made her believe that they would survive the Gallows and Meredith to see another day.


End file.
